


One Foot In Front Of the Other

by kubis



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, YAGKYAS, YAGKYAS 2010
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 14:42:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8717884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kubis/pseuds/kubis
Summary: Ray will later call this day the day he almost went gay for Nate Fick ('Almost' is most fortunate here, because that would be weird afterwards, with all this true love and destiny and stars aligning between dear Nathaniel and Brad, you know?), but for now it is just the second day of their sophomore year and the news about the new guy hasn’t spread around yet.





	

Ray will later call this day the day he almost went gay for Nate Fick ( _'Almost' is most fortunate here, because that would be weird afterwards, with all this true love and destiny and stars aligning between dear Nathaniel and Brad, you know?_ ), but for now it is just the second day of their sophomore year and the news about the new guy hasn’t spread around yet.  
  
This is high school, though, and everyone wants to know everyone else's business, so as soon as Encino Man leaves Nate in the basketball team locker room after a quick introduction, the guys start their inquisition. What Brad’s most interested in is if Fick is a good player _and_ a team player, but he still listens. There are the standard questions: where he's from (Baltimore), why he's here (the whole family moved after his mom got promoted), which year he's in (he looks like he's twelve, but either looks are deceiving or he's Doogie Howser 2.0, because he's a sophomore), does he have a girlfriend (no)...  
  
"I had a boyfriend, though, but we broke up before I moved here. We weren't up for a long-distance relationship, you know?"  
  
Brad looks up at that. Fick's voice got quieter at the end and Brad would bet it's not because he's mourning the relationship. He lowered his voice, because everyone else stopped talking. Brad looks up and sees Nate facing the group, his locker on his right and a shoelace loose in one of his sneakers.  
  
The locker door behind Brad slams loudly.  
  
"Don't worry, homes, there's a lot of dicks here, I'm sure you will find one you like," Ray says and Brad snorts.  
  
"Lucky for you, Person is a big pussy. We wouldn't wish him on anybody." Mike claps Nate on his arm and points at the untied shoelace.  
  
A moment later Godfather comes in and there's no more talking, except for Ray, who leans in and whispers, "He's awesome! Let's adopt a stray, Brad."  
  
Brad doubts anybody who has balls like that needs adopting, but he nods nonetheless.  
  
  
*  
  
  
The sad truth about life is that most people are assholes and narrow-minded idiots. Brad knows this and he usually tries to ignore it, but sometimes it's just jarring on his nerves.  
  
The team is mostly okay. Manimal and Chaffin calm down after the third practice, when it's obvious Nate isn't groping anybody, and start to talk to him. Trombley doesn't, and he's getting pushy about it.  
  
"I don't want to shower with him," he says on Tuesday, three weeks into the semester. Nate just went to the showers and the rest is on their way.  
  
"Shut up, sicko, and clean yourself up," Ray says, passing him by. "You stink."  
  
"Fuck you, Person," Trombley growls.  
  
"But, honey," Ray turns around. "I thought you weren't gay?"  
  
"I'm not! And I don't want to shower with a faggot!"  
  
"I'm not going to look at your dick, Trombley," Nate says, standing in the door. "A: I'm not interested in the least. B: I forgot to bring my magnifying glass. Get over yourself."  
  
And that would be it, but then Encino Man has to step in. After Trombley's request to be allowed to use a different shower, he not only permits it, he holds an after-practice meeting with the whole team and asks if someone else is _feeling that way_. Nate sits there quietly, rolling the ball in his lap, and Brad wants to punch somebody (Trombley, for being a giant fuck-up of a human being; Encino Man, for being an idiot; Casey Kasem, for not even trying to hide his smirk; Godfather, for not being there to stop this bullshit). No one says anything and the coach lets them go, but no one says anything in the locker room either.  
  
Nate leaves without taking a shower and Brad feels sick in his stomach.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Ray starts to kiss Nate on the mouth at the beginning of every practice and every game. They both find it hilarious and it's their thing; Brad just shakes his head and hides his smile.  
  
"You should worry about catching something," he warns Nate at lunch one day.  
  
"I’m going to worry when he starts humping my leg, and I warned him about the tongue, so we should be fine," Nate says, grinning. "Besides, let's be honest here, there’s no way he would’ve had a chance to catch anything in the first place."  
  
"You wound me, Nathaniel," Ray collapses into the seat beside Brad.  
  
"It's called reality check, Person." Brad turns to grin at Nate, and then he notices Natalie sitting at a table two rows away. She's talking, flailing her arms around, and he wants to listen to whatever she’s saying, even if it's... whatever.  
  
Nate starts to turn around to see what's Brad's looking at, but he kicks him under the table.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"Don't."  
  
Nate shrugs and goes back to his food, but Ray isn't that easy.  
  
"Aww, Brad! Did you find someone to warm your cold heart and feet? Because, dude, your feet are icy-cold. But anyway, who is it?" He starts to look around, making a huge spectacle of himself, as always, and Brad just doesn't want to deal with it.  
  
"Fuck off, Ray," he says warningly. "I mean it."  
  
Nate looks as if he's too busy chewing to pay attention, and Ray just rolls his eyes.  
  
"You never really mean it, homes. You love me. But have it your way, I will find out sooner or later."  
  
"There's nothing to find out."  
  
"Yes, yes, of course. Just tell me it's not Natalie Williams again."  
  
Brad doesn't move a muscle. He doesn't.  
  
"Fuck, homes, _still_?" Ray whines. "It's so freshman year, seriously. I thought you got over your crush."  
  
"Ray, do you want the rest of my fries?" Nate asks suddenly and moves his plate in Ray's direction, not waiting for an answer. "I'm full."  
  
"You are forgiven for everything you said earlier, Nathaniel," Ray announces, forgetting the previous topic instantly. "You know how to win a guy over, I can give you that."  
  
Brad smiles at Nate and gets a small smile in return. When he looks up after a few minutes, Natalie is already gone.  
  
  
*  
  
  
They get together in January, Natalie and Brad. It's almost an accident that he asks her out, an accident fuelled by Ray's speeches and Nate's lifted eyebrows, both challenging him.  
  
It's good. It's great even. Brad thinks falling in love makes you stupid, but he's weirdly okay with that. It's not like he will ever be as stupid as Ray on his best day, so he will live.  
  
He is lying on Nate's bed, looking at the ceiling and trying to find a solution for the bug in the open source project he is working on. The sounds of Nate writing his paper are comforting. Brad has learned that this place and their shared semi-silence do wonders for his creativity. It seems to work well for Nate, too, so now Brad has an open invitation to come and think in peace. But today his thoughts are wandering and Brad can feel himself quiver inwardly with something that he can't identify. Natalie comes to mind and his concentration is for shit, anyway. He closes his eyes and sees her eyes and her smile with a dimple in the left cheek, and her fingers in his. He has different thoughts, too, but he suppresses them. Nate would certainly not appreciate Brad getting hard on his bed.  
  
He opens his eyes and rolls onto the side, propping himself up on one arm and looking at Nate. He doesn't look like he's in the zone, so he probably won't mind an interruption.  
  
"Hey," Brad says quietly, in case Nate _is_ in the zone and not ready to throw something at the wall like Brad thinks he is.  
  
Nate turns to him with a hint of a smile, the kind that's too lazy to really come up, but still wants to be noticed.  
  
"Hm? Solved?"  
  
"No, not really." Brad grimaces. "This one is harder than I thought."  
  
"You will crack it," Nate says like it's obvious, and for him, it is. "I, on the other hand, am about ready to print this shit," he points back to the screen, "only so I can tear it into small pieces."  
  
"Nice," Brad chuckles. "It's time for a break then."  
  
He moves a bit, making room for Nate, who falls onto the bed with a sigh. They lie in silence, looking up at the ceiling.  
  
"So, what's up?" Nate asks and it takes Brad a couple of seconds to stop concentrating on their breathing and focus on Nate’s words.  
  
"Nothing is up."  
  
"Something is up," Nate says, but it doesn't sound like he wants to argue. "You don't have to tell me, of course, but it is."  
  
Brad feels like there's fog in his mind, and he tries to remember what he was thinking about before.  
  
"Natalie."  
  
"It doesn't tell me much."  
  
"I don't know what else to tell you," he admits.  
  
"Okay."  
  
Brad looks at him out of the corner of his eye. Nate’s eyes are closed, his eyelashes dark and short. His mouth is slightly open.  
  
"How long had you and your boyfriend been together before you moved here?" Brad asks, looking back up.  
  
"A little over three months," Nate answers after a long moment. "Why?"  
  
Brad doesn't really know. Does he want relationship advice? It's not like Nate has a lot of experience (unless he's just not saying anything) and Brad's quite sure a guy and a girl are different in more ways than one.  
  
"Oh please, Colbert, tell me it's not about sex."  
  
"It's not about sex." Even if it was meant to be about sex, it isn't anymore.  
  
Silence.  
  
"Okay, I'll say it once and we're over this," Nate says and pauses for a moment. "Make sure you're willing, make sure she's willing and make sure you're safe. That's it. No, wait, two more things. One, if you want to talk, I'll listen, just spare me the details, but two, never, ever, talk about it with Ray. Now that's it."  
  
"Thank you, Mom."  
  
"You're welcome, sweetie. Just be a good boy and don't make me a grandmother."  
  
"That's just disturbing, Fick."  
  
"You love disturbing."  
  
"No, I don't. You confused me with Ray and now I'm really offended."  
  
"No, you're not. You love me, you love Ray and you love disturbing."  
  
"... That sounds like I'm in some kind of a twisted threesome with you guys."  
  
"Now who's disturbing?"  
  
"Why are you not in a relationship?" Brad changes the topic so suddenly it startles them both. Nate opens his mouth, but before he says anything, Brad clarifies, "Not in a twisted threesome with us. Just... you know, a normal relationship."  
  
"First of all, it's not like a lot of guys are openly gay at our school..."  
  
"I'm sure you could find somebody. You're a catch, Fick."  
  
"I'm flattered," he deadpans. "And second, I'm not really looking right now either." He stops. "It's complicated and demanding, you know?" Nate shrugs. "And I don't trust that many people."  
  
Brad considers it for a moment and nods.  
  
"Yeah. Neither do I."  
  
  
*  
  
  
Brad has sex for the first time at the beginning of July and that's just a start of the most awesome summer he has ever had. His parents work a lot and his sister is backpacking across South America with her friends, so he has the house to himself. Natalie comes over almost every day, they play computer games, watch movies and have sex, and sometimes they hang out by the pool where Nate works as one of the lifeguards. To top it all off, Ray was shipped to his poor grandparents and he's not there to make Brad's life miserable.  
  
He knows he's neglecting everything and everyone that's not Natalie a little, but he's trying. He spends time with his parents, who are extra clingy now that they are worried about Sarah. He goes to Nate's house every Friday afternoon to hang out and work on his projects while Nate reads, writes and talks about people at the pool.  
  
"I have a date tonight," Nate says one extremely hot day in August. Judging by his own life, he really shouldn't be surprised that someone's dating, but somehow he is. He remembers Nate saying he didn't want to have a relationship, but that was months ago and well, one date is not yet a relationship anyway.  
  
"Brad?" There are three lines forming on Nate’s forehead now and Brad shakes his head quickly.  
  
"You surprised me, that's all. Who's the guy?"  
  
"You remember Arthur from the pool?"  
  
Brad remembers, because the guy wasn't really subtle about ogling Nate. Someone could have drowned and he wouldn't have noticed, too busy flirting.  
  
"Hard not to notice when he's around you all the time."  
  
Nate looks at him with lifted eyebrows, his mouth twitching.  
  
"Dude."  
  
Brad shrugs and grins.  
  
"Yes, I know, I know. Pot, kettle, I get it."  
  
Nate grins back.  
  
"He's smart and funny. Not to mention hot. I didn't mean to, because he goes away to college once the summer's over, but it's just a date. A couple of them, at the most. Why not, right?"  
  
Why not, indeed.  
  
  
*  
  
  
He says "I love you" into Natalie's neck, warm and a little sweaty, in the middle of September. A month later it all goes to shit and Brad thinks that maybe it was just too good to be true.  
  
He's not sure how they let this happen, how it got to that point. They should have gone out a few times, date casually for a while and then end it before it got too serious, before... before now. But you can't seriously talk about a future together when you have only just started dating, so it's only when you're already invested, already head over fucking heels, that you discover you don't really have a chance.  
  
And that hurts like a motherfucking bitch, because it wasn't supposed to go like this.  
  
It's Friday night and he sits at the desk, staring at his laptop. There's a goldfish swimming back and forth on the screensaver, over and over again.  
  
Someone knocks on the door and it's Nate, in too long jeans and a red t-shirt, and when did he get so tall, when did they all get taller and older?  
  
Wait, what the fuck?  
  
"You didn't show up, so I tried to call you," Nate says, coming in. He closes the door and lies down on Brad's bed. "Then I called Natalie. And here I am."  
  
"I think I was getting into a weird mood," he admits.  
  
"You're entitled to weird tonight." Nate sits up, with his back propped against the headboard. "Speaking of, Ray's coming over, too."  
  
"I hate you," Brad groans, sitting next to him.  
  
"You love me. And you love Ray, too."  
  
"You're sadly mistaken on both accounts."  
  
"One time you'll admit your love, I just know it."  
  
"Well, I tried that one time and it didn't really go that well in the end," Brad says and looks away.  
  
Nate apparently gets that they're not talking about him or Ray anymore, because he stays silent.  
  
"This is so stupid," Brad almost chokes on the cliche of it all.  
  
"It's really not," Nate says softly and nudges him with his knee. Their arms are pressed together and it's quiet. Brad starts to talk.  
  
He told her about his biggest dream, he wanted her to know first. _I want to join the Marines after graduation_ , he said, and she didn't take it well. _No. No, you can't_ , she said, and it all went down from there. Who would have thought that a nine-month-long relationship could end just like that.  
  
"Do you think maybe you will—"  
  
"No." Brad shakes his head and closes his fingers into a fist. "There are things we can't get over and that's it."  
  
"People say things in anger..."  
  
"Nate."  
  
"I'm sorry," he says, running his fingers on the side of Brad's thigh before letting his hand drop between them.  
  
"It's okay. I know what you're trying to do, it's just... I'm really sure it's over." Brad takes a deep breath and if it hitches a little, neither of them comment on it. "The stuff that came up, we should have known better. It'd be still good now, tomorrow, next month, but we wouldn't make it in the long run. It's... it's really better that we found out now."  
  
"Broken heart is still a broken heart," Nate says, a little unsure and awkward. Brad's insides clench in agreement.  
  
"Hey, and what would you know," Brad says, smirking, partly defensive and partly trying to lighten up the mood. "You and your 'no serious relationships' policy."  
  
It doesn't help the mood at all. Nate face closes off and Brad wants to apologize immediately, but he's interrupted by a tight smile and a shrug.  
  
"Doesn't mean I don't know what a broken heart feels like," Nate says looking at Brad's chest.  
  
"You never told me," he whispers into the sudden silence between them, willing Nate to look back at him, but he doesn't.  
  
"You never told me about the Marines," he shoots back.  
  
Brad nods.  
  
"We don't have to tell each other everything," Nate says quietly. "Not everything is meant to be talked about." He looks back at him now, smiling softly. "It's just the way it is."  
  
"There's no one I trust more than you," Brad hears himself say and he realizes it's true. No one, not Natalie, even before today, not Ray, even if he is the other one of Brad's best friends.  
  
"There's no one I trust more than you, too," Nate says and they grin at each other, because for a moment everything is okay.  
  
Five seconds later the door opens and it's Ray with his, "Hello, ladies," and the sound of glass hitting glass coming from his backpack, and Brad thinks, _Fuck, my parents are going to kill me_.  
  
  
*  
  
  
People who tell you that getting over your broken heart is a pain the ass, well, Brad agrees with them. It is a fucking pain in _his_ ass, at least.  
  
He goes through the motions. School, practice, his on-line projects for which he even gets paid now - he still does everything he used to do before. He isn't a people person and Natalie and he have never had any mutual friends, so thankfully no social circles are broken or some weird high school etiquette disturbed, or whatever.  
  
Trying to ignore her existence may not be the best way to deal with things, but it's the one he's sticking with for now.  
  
Sometimes he feels like he's observing the world instead of participating in it. He observes his teachers, his teammates, his friends and his family, and he can't figure out what's missing. He starts to come around at the end of the winter break, then the day of not-anniversary comes and goes and he feels good.  
  
He starts running with Nate. Brad's doing it to get in shape, Nate because he's apparently unable to sit still. Basketball practice, being the vice-president of the student's council and the star of the debate club, _and_ working for the school newspaper is clearly not enough for him. Brad thinks he's a little insane. Ray agrees and rolls his eyes a lot, but he still kisses Nate before every game they play, because he adores giving people an aneurysm and Nate still thinks it's funny.  
  
  
*  
  
  
The thing about Nate is that he's... well, he's insane, yes, but he's also the most determined person Brad knows. He started talking about organizing the Day of Silence at their school last year and the idea was dismissed. But now he isn't ‘a crazy new student who wants a free pass from the teachers’. He is well-known, well-liked and well-prepared.  
  
And the Day of Silence is, indeed, happening.  
  
Some teachers weren't happy about it and Brad thinks a few of them asked more questions than usual, but the principal supported the cause, so they couldn't do anything. Brad is willing to bet that the students who stayed silent today will be questioned thoroughly next week, though.  
  
It's almost over now. The one thing left is the Breaking the Silence event, organized for the people from their school as well as those from Winston High.  
  
"There you are," Ray says, sitting next to him on the grass, and looks around. "Wow, this is a lot of people. Nate sure knows how to throw a party."  
  
Brad automatically looks for Nate - he's still standing next to that guy, Adam, who organized the Day of Silence event at Winston High and co-organized this one with Nate and their GSA. They are still not allowed to talk, but there are smiles and little touches and standing a little too close to each other involved.  
  
"So," Ray starts and Brad makes it a point to stop looking at Nate. "I guess this my perfect opportunity to talk some sense into you. The fact that you can't speak makes it perfect, that is. Because there's nothing else even close to perfect about this whole thing apart from that."  
  
Brad lifts his eyebrows and starts to get up, just to show Ray that he really doesn't have to listen to him if he doesn't want to, but Ray holds his arm.  
  
"It's about Nate, Brad. It's important."  
  
He sits back down.  
  
"This is totally crazy and I'm going to die," Ray mutters, looking around, but then he seems to make up his mind. "I wasn't going to say anything, really, I wasn't, but this shit is getting old and you're over Natalie, and you're blind, homes, you really are, and you should know and he shouldn't have to..."  
  
Brad snaps his fingers in front of Ray's face. If he doesn't get to his point fast, Brad will punch him.  
  
"Nate is in love with you," Ray blurts out and makes a face, and Brad... Brad sort of freezes.  
  
"Fuck, there's really no delicate way to say this," Ray continues. "Believe me, I tried to think of one."  
  
Ray actually planned this conversation. And Nate is in love with Brad.  
  
If Ray is fucking with him right now, Brad will kill him, slowly and painfully.  
  
"I wasn't going to tell you anything, because sometimes even I understand the whole 'not your business' shit, but homes, it's Nate and it's you. When I was sure it was never going to happen, I kept my mouth shut, because you're fucking soulmates, platonic or not, I don't care, and I didn't want to mess it up. You were happy with her, so we were both, you know, happy for you. Not that Nate would say something if he wasn't, of course, he would just fucking smile brighter and bigger... I mean, anyway. I kept my mouth shut, because I didn't believe something might happen. But now I'm telling you this. So I hope you know what that means. Oh hell, I'm not sure you know, and I'm sure as hell not doing it again, so I will spell it out for you. I think you just never thought about this, about the possibility of it. And you should, because probably no girl will ever come close to Nate for you, not where it counts."  
  
Brad can't take any more of this, so he holds his hand up to stop Ray.  
  
"Yeah, okay," Ray agrees quietly and he slumps down a little, deflated. He sounds more serious than ever before. "Just... whatever you do, don't fuck it up."  
  
Brad wonders how exactly he is supposed to manage that.  
  
  
*  
  
  
He wishes he could take a break from his life. Go somewhere and think it through, make a plan or something. Anything. But he can't take a break and the place where he always has the best ideas is Nate's bed.  
  
A ride to Nate's house isn't probably the smartest idea, but it's Friday afternoon and it's their thing, no matter what, and Nate left Adam with a handshake and had the biggest smile, looking at Brad, and. Brad doesn't want to break the routine, he feels like changing anything could destroy his zen. And he fucking has his zen, he does.  
  
"Thanks for today," Nate says, his voice a little lower than usual after the whole day of not speaking.  
  
"No need," Brad answers, turning left onto Nate's street. "I just wish you'd talked Ray into it. We all could use a break from that mouth."  
  
Nate laughs. He doesn't know the whole truth, just like Brad didn't, and Brad wonders if it’s still okay, those not-lies they tell each other.  
  
"You have to give me points for trying, though," Nate says, grinning. " _Homes, I love you, you know that, but I'd end up with an aneurysm_."  
  
Brad chokes, and it has nothing to do with the fact that Nate's pretty good at impersonating Ray.  
  
He parks in Nate's driveway and they go in, just like hundreds of times before. They pass the kitchen, where Beth and her fiancé are apparently cooking dinner. Simon's kissing her brow and she's grinning at him with that Fick smile before they notice the newcomers and say hi. Brad smiles back and goes with Nate to his room, like always, like it's the same it has always been.  
  
And maybe it is the same, for everyone but Brad. He doesn't have words for how much this isn't what he knows.  
  
Fortunately, there's nothing weird with Brad being silent or lying down and staring at the ceiling. They have a routine, established well over a year ago and played out so many times it's all just different versions of the same song.  
  
Brad thinks of kissing Nate here, in this room, on this bed, and wonders if it would be just a new riff that wasn't there before. He doesn't think so. He can picture it, it looks so easy in his mind, like a memory of something that has already happened.  
  
The truth is, there's really nothing easy about it at all.  
  
Nate sits cross-legged next to him on the bed, and Brad notices that the palm of his left hand is covered with barely visible handwriting. He catches it and turns to look at it, fingers clasping Nate's wrist without thinking, because it's normal, it's allowed.  
  
There are many things Nate allows him to do without question and Brad never noticed, because he does it, too.  
  
"Never enough time to find some paper," Nate says and shrugs a little self-consciously, but he smiles, looking at their hands.  
  
 _It would be so easy_ , Brad thinks again, looking up at him. He doesn't do anything, because he can't now, not yet, maybe not ever. Not until he knows what he wants, because it can turn ugly, like it usually does, and Nate is anything but disposable.  
  
  
*  
  
  
For the next week Brad questions everything he does after it happens. He discovers that he's a tactile person and that he seems to touch Nate more often than anybody else. Or everybody else combined.  
  
He waits for a freakout, but it never comes. It's not anything they haven’t already done. And caring for Nate isn't really a problem here, because he does that already.  
  
But caring and innocent touching aren’t gay sex. So, after a week, Brad does the only thing he can think of - he goes looking for porn. It doesn't go as well as it could, to put it mildly. Brad has seen more assholes from up-close that he had ever wished for. Basically, it's like the regular porn minus pussy and breasts, so not like one at all.  
  
He decides he's had enough and he wants to exit the site, when he notices a comment about ‘cocksucking lips’. He clicks, feeling a little bad, because he heard that comment directed at Nate in situations that weren't about anything fun at all, but...  
  
The shots are mostly of a cock disappearing in some guy's mouth. Mouth that vaguely resembles the one Brad knows quite well, even from a distance.  
  
He's hard in less than a minute. Somewhere in the back of his mind there's a thought that it can't possibly be that easy, but he freezes the video and pulls down his jeans. He jacks off thinking of Nate's lips on his cock, Nate between Brad's thighs, with his eyes closed and his eyelashes dark and short, and his freckles that show up only in the summer. His hips shoot up when he comes, thinking of Nate pushing him down.  
  
So. There's that.  
  
  
*  
  
  
"Brad?" Nate asks, sitting next to him on his bed. It's Friday again, two weeks after the Day of Silence. Brad doesn't stop staring at the ceiling, he just hums to let Nate know he's listening. "Is everything alright?"  
  
Brad looks at him then, sees the furrowed brows and concern in Nate’s eyes, and he has this stupid thought again about how they all got older while he wasn't paying attention. He wasn't paying attention to many things and it bugs him.  
  
But while they might have gotten older, they're still only seventeen. And Nate is still the closest person to Brad.  
  
Brad tugs Nate to get him to lie down and rolls on one elbow, so he's looking down at him. He stares, he knows he does, and anyone else would get impatient and ask or move, but Nate just looks back at him, waiting. _There really isn't a choice to make_ , Brad thinks and kisses Nate. It's just a touch at first (he's a tactile person, remember?), but then Brad's hand comes up to Nate's neck and Nate kisses him back. They're not rushing it, there's no urgency, just slow getting to know each other, like their mouths are catching up on the acquaintance, late to the party.  
  
When they part, Brad's hand is on the back of Nate's neck, thumb caressing the skin behind his ear. Nate's fingers are in Brad's hair, and he looks uncertain for a moment, opening his mouth, but he closes it when their foreheads touch. He smiles the kind of a smile Brad has never seen before, happy, unguarded and in love. Brad remembers Nate saying that they don't tell each other everything and that it’s okay, and he knows, _he knows_ it's true, but he still feels cheated a little for not getting to see this Nate before.  
  
"So," Nate says. Brad gets that he has questions which Brad should answer, and they should talk, they have to, really, or this is going to implode, and Nate's giving him an opening.  
  
"Yeah," is the only thing he says, because for now the one thing Nate needs to know is that Brad's in, a confirmation and not a freakout. Now is not the time for talking.  
  
"Okay," Nate agrees before kissing him again.  
  
  
*  
  
  
"So," Nate says again, two hours later. They are lying on their backs, with their arms touching, like they were hundreds of times before, but Brad was right. It isn't the same. There are their puffed lips and hooked feet, and Nate's face, and the feeling inside of Brad he can't name.  
  
"I didn't know," is the first thing that comes out of his mouth.  
  
"I didn't want you to know," Nate admits. He had quickly adapted to Brad's way of speaking without preamble and learned to figure out what Brad didn't say before he started talking.  
  
"I never considered it." Nate being in love with him, him being attracted to Nate, starting a gay relationship, a possibility of having gay sex - any of those.  
  
"I think most guys don't, unless they are prompted. Either by their feelings or by someone saying something..." Nate pauses and look at Brad expectantly.  
  
"Ray got tired of me being stupid," he admits. Nate laughs at that and Brad has to kiss him again, because he might have been stupid but is not anymore.  
  
"We need to talk about this," Nate says, his lips still touching Brad's.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
They move around, so they're lying facing each other.  
  
"I'm not fooling around," Brad says first and lays his hand on Nate's hip.  
  
"I know that." Nate smiles at him. "You wouldn't. So I guess we are, for lack of a better word, dating."  
  
"How does 'being together' sound to you?" Brad asks. He can see that Nate is careful with him and he's grateful, but he also doesn't want to go too slow just because Nate thinks he's freaking out.  
  
"Sounds great." Nate grins and touches Brad's stomach. "I'm really, really grateful to Ray right now. Even if he's going to be insufferable when he finds out."  
  
"He already is, he's Ray," Brad says out of habit. "But Nate, listen, I can't..." And this is the hard part, the one that made him question this time and time again over the last two weeks. "I can't be open about it at school. Well, anywhere and to anyone, really, with the exception of Ray and maybe our families." Brad's talking fast and Nate's silent. "It's not... There's 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell', and I want to be a Marine, I just can't..." _be gay_ , "be open about this."  
  
Nate's watching his fingers trace the letters on Brad's t-shirt while he breathes in and out.  
  
"I know, Brad," he says, looking back at him. "I get it. It's... well, I won't say it's okay, but I understand. I can live with that."  
  
"Are you sure?" Brad asks, even if he has no idea what they would do now if Nate wasn't.  
  
"I'm sure. It's a small price to pay, considering." He shrugs and brings Brad in for a kiss, a little harder than before.  
  
  
*  
  
  
They were going to go to Beth’s wedding together since the day they got their invitations. Both of them without a date, it seemed like the best solution. Now... Of course, the official version is still that they came as friends, but _they_ know it’s different and Nate’s family knows, too, and it’s weird. It’s sort of their first date, even if Brad tries not to think about it that way. They are really good at pretending, before the summer break no one at school noticed that anything was different between them, but this. This is something else. Brad can’t help remembering the first date he went out on with Natalie, how nervous he was then and how the only problem with touching her or kissing her was if she was going to allow it. Nate is making him more calm and more nervous at the same time. And he is off-limits.  
  
Although the last one Brad has only himself to thank for, so he can’t really complain.  
  
“Are you having fun?” Beth asks as they dance together.  
  
Brad looks at Nate, sitting at the table and talking with his new brother-in-law, laughing. There's something to be said about how good he looks in this suit, because seriously. Really, really good, even better since he took off his tie a couple of minutes ago. He looks so happy that Brad’s grin is a reflex.  
  
“Yes, I have to admit you throw nice parties,” he answers, turning his attention back to Beth. She looks amazing and happy. She has never reminded him of Nate as much as she does now. “What about you?”  
  
“Well, I got my dream boy, of course I’m happy,” she says, grinning. They turn and now she has a perfect view of their table. Her smile is soft, but when she looks back up at Brad, her voice is more serious. “Speaking of dream boys...”  
  
Brad starts to pray for the song to end _right now_.  
  
“I’m happy for you both, I really am. I’ve never seen Nate so happy, that’s for sure. It’s just...” she pauses and Brad’s not smiling anymore. “I don’t like this hiding bullshit. I understand why and I get it. I may not like it, but I get it’s something you have to do. I just hope that it's worth it and that you’re sure about you and Nate, because if you break his heart, I’m going for your kneecaps. Fair warning.”  
  
Brad’s not scared. He’s... rationally concerned.  
  
“I’m not in this to break his heart,” he says, uncomfortable. He can’t and won’t promise her anything else.  
  
She seems to like his answer, though, and they stay silent for the rest of the song. When it’s over and some other guy comes up to ask Beth to dance, Brad goes back to their table. Nate turns to him with a blinding smile and he smiles back, thinking that maybe he doesn’t need to be rationally concerned after all.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Brad doesn't tell Nate he loves him for the first time during a blowjob, because he's not an idiot. Nate may have pretty much sucked all the braincells out of him, yes, but Brad still manages to catch himself in time. He kisses Nate, long and thorough, not minding the taste, and reciprocates, but he stays silent about the whole love thing. No matter how awesome the experience is, it's not the right time.  
  
But he doesn't catch himself, doesn't even try, a week later, on his birthday. They are in his room and Nate just gave him the helmet to go with the bike he's supposed to get from his parents.  
  
"Happy birthday, Brad," Nate says softly, leaning in for a kiss. "I love you."  
  
And it's just there, ready and right.  
  
"I love you, too, Nate," he says and puts his hands on Nate's neck, bringing him closer. Brad can see his eyes widen and feels the catch of his breath under his fingers, and he kisses him, because it's the only thing he can think of doing right now.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Brad planned to tell his family about him and Nate in the most suitable time. He wasn't sure what that meant, exactly, but sometimes he worked on his speech before falling asleep and he was telling himself over and over that he was going to do this at the right moment.  
  
It happens a little differently.  
  
They are at a restaurant, celebrating his birthday, and his parents are bringing back some really awful stories from his childhood. His sister is laughing so hard Brad's sure she's about to choke on something.  
  
"I can't believe I've never heard some of those," Ann says, breathless. "I have so much blackmail material now, it's awesome! Now you just have to find yourself a girlfriend I can share it with."  
  
He tries to look normal, he really does, but his mother sees something is wrong.  
  
"Bradley, you will find a lovely girl, don't worry about it."  
  
"I've found Nate," he says, his fingers digging into his thighs.  
  
"I'm sorry?"  
  
"I don't need to find a girl, Mom. I... Nate and I, we are... together. I don't need to find a girl."  
  
Their silence is incredibly loud in the room full of other people.  
  
"Nate Fick?" Ann asks. Brad thinks she's trying to be helpful, so he nods. "Wow. Since when?"  
  
"The end of April."  
  
"It's not that long..." his dad starts, but Brad was ready for that.  
  
"We’ve known each other for almost two years now. I was a little late to the party, so to speak, but it's serious, Dad."  
  
"He was your friend, that's different."  
  
"He was my _best_ friend and he still is. But now he's also my boyfriend."  
  
"So you're gay now, because your _best friend_ is?" His mother speaks quietly and he can hear she's angry. It hurts. He expected it to, but it doesn't really help.  
  
"I'm bi, not gay. And it isn't Nate's _fault_ , if that's what you're implying." _I fell in love_ , Brad wants to add, but he doesn't. It wouldn't feel right here.  
  
"Would you still be with Natalie if Nate wasn't around?"  
  
"What? No!" It feels like a really bad dream. "Natalie and I broke up because we were different and we wanted different things from life. Not because of _Nate_."  
  
"Speaking of your plans, what about the Marine Corps? You can't be gay in the military."  
  
Brad looks at his father.  
  
"I can't be openly gay. I know that and we talked about it. Nate understands." He pauses. "Listen, I know it's not what you wanted for me. And that it's surprising. But I can assure you, it's serious and I care about him a lot. I really thought about this."  
  
"So you're going to stay in the closet?" Ann says, frowning. She's not sad about the gay part, just about the hiding part, and Brad's grateful.  
  
"As long as 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' is in place, yes. I don't have a choice."  
  
"You're just making your life a lot harder," his mother says, looking at her plate.  
  
And Brad hates to be the soap opera impersonation, but he wants them to understand, so...  
  
"Nate's worth it."  
  
  
*  
  
  
"Do you think I'm scared of anal sex?" he asks Nate two weeks before the summer is over. "Is this why we're not doing it?"  
  
For his defense, he was just woken up with a blowjob, which ended in a mindblowing orgasm.  
  
"What?" Nate looks at him incredulously, lifting his head from Brad's thigh. He sits up and Brad's thoughts sidetrack. He has Nate, naked and hard, sitting between his legs and what were they even talking about?  
  
Oh. _Oh_. Fuck. Okay, when in doubt, soldier on.  
  
"You just never... mentioned it."  
  
"Neither did you," Nate points out.  
  
"Well, yeah. But I just did." Brad is really glad the Fick family is out for the whole weekend and they have the house to themselves. This is not a conversation that should be going on anywhere near other people.  
  
"By asking me if I think you're scared," Nate clarifies.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"You're a moron," he says, but it's affectionate and Brad can live with that.  
  
"I just wanted to start a conversation." Okay, so he didn't exactly plan this, but he has been thinking about it for a couple of weeks now.  
  
Nate laughs, moving closer and straddling Brad.  
  
"Do you want to have anal sex?" he asks.  
  
Brad puts his hands low on Nate's back.  
  
"You're sitting in my lap and you're naked. And hard. Any kind of sex would be great right now."  
  
Nate laughs again, kisses him and moves away.  
  
"I will remember that," he says. "Okay, so. Do you want to have anal sex?"  
  
Nate's face and neck are a little pink and Brad would bet his are, too. Sex should not require talking about it in broad daylight.  
  
"Yes? I think so? Don't you?"  
  
"I want to try it," Nate says quietly. "It's just... you know, you probably want to fuck me and it's okay with me, I'd like that, it's just... a lot to take in. And I don't mean your dick." He cracks a smile at the end, but Brad isn't blind, he can spot nervousness.  
  
"You haven't done this before, right?" He's pretty sure, but he prefers to check.  
  
"Before you, I had basically one boyfriend, back when I lived in Baltimore. If you think I'd let a fifteen-year-old boy put his cock in my ass just because I liked him and he wanted to, you're insane."  
  
"Well, you're going to let a seventeen-year-old boy do it, so..."  
  
"There's a difference. And it's you." Nate shrugs and Brad has to kiss him.  
  
"We don't have to," he says. Nate rolls his eyes and kisses him back.  
  
"Of course we don't have to. But we both want it, so we should at least try, right?"  
  
"Now?" Brad asks to make sure.  
  
"Let's make out and see what happens," Nate says with his lips on Brad's. "If it's not going to work, we have other stuff we're pretty good at."  
  
What happens is: Brad lies down on top of Nate, they kiss and touch everywhere; all the places they already know are now somehow new and more exciting. What happens is: Brad kisses Nate's chest and stomach, and hips, and thigh, and knee, while Nate fingers himself open for him. What happens is: Nate's making those soft, quiet noises and Brad can't stop looking at his face, eyes half-closed, mouth open, skin sweaty. What happens is: he trails his fingers from Nate's cock to his balls and further, touches the place where Nate's slick fingers disappear into his body and Nate breaths out "Brad, fuck, now, please", lifting his hips. What happens is: Brad has to bite his cheek to stop himself from coming when he puts a condom on. What happens is: Nate's eyes widen and close from the shock of intrusion and his breath quickens and his muscles spasm around Brad's dick. What happens is: Brad starts to make calming noises which he won't remember, too preoccupied with trying very hard not to come or move, or both. What happens is: they kiss and when Nate's muscles relax a little, Brad starts to push, and they somehow find a rhythm, kissing and moving, then there’s more moving and less kissing, and Nate's eyes are open now, looking straight at him, and Brad somehow manages to close his hand around Nate's dick. What happens is: Nate comes with a gasp and muscles clenching around Brad, so he's only a few seconds behind him.  
  
There's a mess, they are covered in sweat and come, and they are kissing, high on endorphins, laughing like they can't stop. This is what happens.  
  
  
*  
  
  
The fall of the senior year in high school is crazy. All you can hear is college, college essays, college, letters of recommendation, college, SATs, college, college, college. Brad couldn't care less, but Nate is stressing out, even if, with his grades and accomplishments and SATs he took last year, every school will want him.  
  
"Nate," Brad says, looking up from his laptop after two hours of hearing, "I'm almost done." He's not whining, he's... expressing his boredom and frustration.  
  
"I'm almost..."  
  
"No, you're done right now." Brad gets up from the bed, takes Nate's laptop, saves changes and closes it.  
  
"Brad!" Nate definitely whines.  
  
"You rewrote this essay dozens of times. You're not up for a Pulitzer, for fuck's sake," Brad says, kisses him and takes his hand to pull him towards his bed. "Come on, have sex with me."  
  
"My parents are downstairs," Nate tries to argue, but he goes anyway.  
  
"They never come up here, they don't want to know," Brad says but stops to close the door. "Lie down. I will blow you, maybe that will _relax_ you for a moment."  
  
It manages to relax Nate for about fifteen minutes of post-coital bliss. They're lying on the bed, facing each other, and Nate's fingers trace the lines of Brad's jaw and neck.  
  
"It's really important," he says quietly. "It needs to be perfect."  
  
And that's Nate. Always trying to be better, wanting to be perfect.  
  
"Hey," Brad says, kissing him. "Your 'good' is someone else's 'brilliant'. And your essay is better than good, every damn version of it that I've read. Pick three you like most and we will discuss them tomorrow. Then you'll send in your applications and that will be it, okay?"  
  
Nate moves closer and places his face in the crook of Brad's neck. He murmurs something that sounds like ‘I love you’ and Brad smiles and kisses his ear.  
  
"I won’t let you get an ulcer before college."  
  
"That's very kind of you." Nate backs away a little. "What about your essay?"  
  
"Wrote it during the weekend. I can show you tomorrow, so you can do a spell check if you want," Brad says, smiling.  
  
His parents wanted him to apply to at least one college, so that's what he's doing. He's not going to go to CalTech anyway, but he promised. He just wishes that Nate would look a little less happy about it.  
  
"Of course I want to. At least it will be something I understand." Nate grins and points at Brad's laptop lying on the floor. "More often than not, you're writing things in an alien language."  
  
"It's easier than French," Brad points out.  
  
"The pun I could make is so bad, I can't say it," Nate laughs and kisses him, pushing Brad to lie down.  
  
It's time to relax again.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Brad couldn't be happier that the holidays are over. If he had had to say, "No, I don't have a girlfriend," one more time to one more relative, he would have killed somebody. Or brought Nate to family Hanukkah dinner, kissed him in front of everyone and kissed his future in the Marines goodbye at the same time.  
  
Brad's really glad the danger is over now, but it's New Year's Eve and the situation is not that different. Instead of annoying relatives, he's surrounded by annoying classmates, most of them drunk on cheap beer and some blue-ish drink Brad's not touching with a stick. And instead of questions about a new girlfriend, there are girls interested in being one (he's not full of himself, he's just not blind).  
  
His life is not that bad, though. Nate is beside him and they are joking and laughing with Mike and Poke, sitting close without the need for explanation other than the obvious fact that there are really too many people in Ray's living room.  
  
Ten to midnight Nate tilts his head in the direction of the back door and they move outside. There's not a lot of people here, but it's difficult to see everyone in the shadows. Brad notices Stafford and Christeson in a small group on the patio, and he thinks he sees Trombley with his girlfriend sitting under a tree with another couple. Nate and Brad find a deserted place near the east side of the house and they lean against the wall next to each other, but keeping a safe distance in case someone shows up. The music is loud, coming through the windows, but it’s still relatively quiet after hours of constant noise.  
  
They are silent, just standing there, and Brad can't help thinking about that year. He started it recovering from a break-up and now he's in a relationship he wouldn't even be able to predict back then. He remembers the day Ray told him about Nate's feelings and he thinks of all the things that could have gone wrong but didn't. Nate loves him and Brad loves him back, they're still best friends and still together.  
  
The counting starts and they are looking at each other, smiling. Nate's fingers touch his in the dark and approximately five seconds after midnight Brad closes the space between them and kisses Nate.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Unsurprisingly, each school that Nate applied to wants him. The fact that CalTech wants Brad is rather unsurprising, too, but much less appreciated. At least by Brad, because Nate looks ready to explode from excitement. He jumps him as soon as he walks through the door and pins him to it, demanding to be fucked. Who's Brad to say no. Nate doesn't stop smiling and even laughs during his orgasm like he can't help it. It looks like his grin is going to be a permanent thing now, but what Brad has to say will take care of that pretty damn fast, he knows. So he stalls a little, gives them time, but in the end he doesn't have a choice.  
  
"You know I'm not going to CalTech, right?" he says, looking at Nate's neck.  
  
"Yeah, I know," Nate admits quietly and Brad looks up. The smile is gone.  
  
"Nate..." he starts and doesn't know what to say. He just hopes it's not like the last time, everything going to shit, because someone can't change him the way they want. Nate knew what he was getting himself into.  
  
"Hey," Nate says, resting his hand on Brad's neck. "I knew that and I still do, okay?"  
  
"But you wish I'd go," Brad can't help pushing.  
  
"But I'm okay with you not going," Nate counters. "I want you to be who you want to be. Just... before you decline the offer, go to the recruiting station, talk to someone. Make sure."  
  
Brad is sure. Nate's right, though. He was planning on going anyway and now is a good time.  
  
"I know," he says, kissing Nate's jaw and neck. "I will."  
  
  
*  
  
  
And this is how he finds himself coming in to the recruiting station on Friday afternoon. He sees that the man at the desk is busy talking with a girl, so he turns to the chairs where there's another guy waiting.  
  
"Trombley?"  
  
They had never talked much to begin with, but since Trombley's homophobic ass turned against Nate they pretty much just avoided each other outside of the basketball court.  
  
"Colbert."  
  
They sit in silence for the next couple of minutes, then the girl leaves and the Marine turns to Brad.  
  
"Hi, my name is Dominic Lane. How can I help you?"  
  
"Brad Colbert." They shake hands and Brad looks at Trombley. "I'm interested in enlisting, but I wasn't here first..."  
  
"James is not waiting for me, don't worry," the guy, Dominic, says. "Come sit down."  
  
Brad sits and opens his mouth to ask a first question, when Trombley speaks from behind him.  
  
"I don't know what you're doing here, Colbert. Last time I checked they didn't allow fags into the Marine Corps. Or any other military branch."  
  
He freezes. He stops breathing, because this is a bad dream, a really bad dream, and he will wake up if he just stops...  
  
"James!" He hears and it's loud. Shouldn't a loud noise like that wake him up?  
  
"I go to school with him, Lane, I know what I'm talking about." Trombley now moves and comes up to Brad, standing a few feet to his right. "You were trying, I can give you that. Everyone thinks you are just friends with the Golden Boy. You got me fooled, too. Fuck, you're worse than him, he's at least not lying about what he is. I didn't even want to believe when my sister told me you were there with Fick at his sister’s wedding. 'They are best friends, their families probably know each other well by now,' I said. There are photos, Colbert..."  
  
This is not happening.  
  
"... but you could still argue that you're just _really close_ friends, I guess. You were behaving then. Shame you couldn't keep it up on the New Year's Eve, though. Kissing your boyfriend when there might be people taking pictures? Not your smartest move."  
  
Trombley and his girlfriend sitting under the tree. _Fuck._  
  
"James! Go wait for your father in his office," Lane says sharply. "I think you made your point."  
  
Neither of them speaks for a few minutes after Trombley disappears. _There's not much to say now_ , Brad thinks.  
  
"I'm really sorry about that," Lane starts at last. "And I'm really sorry for what I'm about to say, but... if there are pictures, they can come up. There could be someone," he says, looking at the door to the back office, "who decides to disclose them and your career will be over before it even begins."  
  
"I see," Brad says. He actually can't, for a moment, he has to close his eyes and maybe when he opens them...  
  
"I'm sorry," Lane repeats, and he actually sounds sincere. Brad wishes it meant more to him, but it really, really doesn't. "If it helps, DADT should be over soon. If not this year, then maybe the next. I'm sure we'll be lucky to have you."  
  
Brad nods, thanks him and walks out of this place.  
  
His phone is vibrating in his pocket. _Fuck you_ , he thinks and drives away.  
  
  
*  
  
  
He wakes up on Saturday morning tired and aching in places that have little to do with last night’s running.  
  
The scene from the recruitment station replays itself in his head over and over again, in flashes. _Last time I checked they didn't allow fags into the Marine Corps_ is there when he wakes up and the echo follows him to the bathroom. _They don't allow fags into the Marine Corps._ He brushes his teeth and thinks about how he’s worse than Nate, _he's at least not lying about what he is_.  
  
The thought of Nate stops the replay for a moment, but it doesn’t make him feel better. Quite the contrary, he feels his muscles tense and has the urge to punch Nate in the face.  
  
 _If there are pictures, they can come up._  
  
 _You were trying, I can give you that._  
  
Brad throws up the dinner his mother forced him to eat last night.  
  
“So much for your Carbonara, Mom,” he whispers and his breath quickens. He feels like he’s burning up. The tiles are cold to the touch and this is exactly what Brad needs. That, and maybe enough alcohol to knock himself unconscious. He wants a do-over, a fucking Groundhog Day.  
  
What are the odds of Trombley being at that recruitment station at the same time as Brad? How often is he there? What would happen if Brad went there on Thursday? Or Wednesday? Or next Monday? Would he still have his fucking dream and his entire life plan if he hadn’t gone yesterday?  
  
Brad sits between the toilet and the sink, looking for answers the white and dark blue tiles can’t give him.  
  
There’s nothing there. Nothing.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Nate's here. Brad knew it was going to happen sooner rather than later, it's not like he was subtle in avoiding him. After about a dozen unreturned phone calls and only two received texts during the entire weekend, it's slightly surprising Nate waited till Sunday evening to come over to Brad's house.  
  
And now he's standing in the doorway of Brad's room, looking at him from head to toe, with his brows furrowed and fingers playing with his bracelet.  
  
"Your Mom let me in. I think it means she's okay with us now," he says and he's not coming in, just standing there, waiting for Brad to invite him in or not.  
  
"She's probably worried about me." Brad steps aside. He closes the door after Nate enters and turns to face him.  
  
"She's not the only one," Nate says, looking at him questioningly. "I came to see what happened."  
  
Brad doesn't want to talk at all, but settles on doing it as quickly as he can.  
  
"I went to the recruitment station on Friday," he says and watches the reaction closely. He knows Nate wasn't happy with the idea and now each facial expression, each gesture is very, very important. While he's telling the story, he sees confusion and worry, surprise, anger and sadness. Brad feels his own anger simmering inside him. _Nate's a good liar_ , he thinks. _He hides the relief really well._  
  
"I'm sorry," Nate says, and he's usually better at figuring out what's the wrong thing to say. "I know..." he continues and Brad takes a step back.  
  
"No, you really don't know."  
  
"You're right. I'm sorry," he admits, coming closer. He really should know by now that closing in on Brad is never a good idea.  
  
"Each and every fucking dream you'd ever had came true, Nate. Each and every one. I had one dream, _one_ , and now it's gone," he says, aiming for calm, but they’ve known each other for too long.  
  
Nate deflates. He backs off and sits on the bed, putting his hands under his thighs, before Brad's brain catches up.  
  
 _Fuck_ , is his first thought. _Well, tough shit_ , is the next one and he knows he has to get out of here.  
  
"I have to go," he says with his hand on the doorknob.  
  
"It's your room," he hears but doesn't look back.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Two days are not enough and on Monday morning Brad still feels like shit. Last night's fight with Nate just made him feel worse, but he can't help being angry. It's not Nate's fault he succeeds at everything he does, from getting into college to, well, getting Brad, and Brad knows that, he's fucking amazed by the things Nate can do, but. But he can't help thinking that if not for Nate, DADT wouldn't be Brad’s problem at all. He can't help thinking that he lost Natalie over something that he didn't even get in the end.  
  
Yes, he's aware that he's being an asshole, thank you very much. It's not like you can control everything that comes to your mind, though. And it's not like he wishes he was with Natalie now, because he doesn't. He just... He loves Nate more than he ever did Natalie, but he _was_ in love with her, and it hurt like a motherfucker then. Besides, he never really thought that being with Nate and being a Marine were mutually exclusive. Making the other difficult, yes, but not impossible. He was wrong.  
  
So, on Monday morning he still feels like shit and he's still pissed off.  
  
Unsurprisingly, the day is going terribly, because everybody notices. And Brad means it, _everybody_. Even professor Patterson is looking at him and Nate at the end of the History class as if he wants to figure out what happened.  
  
Ray does more than just look. He uses every opportunity to torment Brad and he's a persistent fucker.  
  
"Nothing happened, Ray," Brad repeats, again, when they walk into the locker room before practice. Nate's already in there, talking with Mike, but he doesn't say anything to Brad, doesn't acknowledge him at all.  
  
Good.  
  
  
*  
  
  
On Tuesday, Ray apparently moves to Nate to torment him instead.  
  
"Let it go, Ray," Brad hears Nate's voice and stops outside the door. He left his phone in his locker, earlier, not bothering to check if he packed everything, because he wanted to leave as soon as possible. He didn't expect anyone to still be in there now.  
  
"No. I want to know what's going on!"  
  
"I'm giving him some space," Nate says after a moment. "That's all."  
  
"Are you nuts? You know it's dangerous to give Brad _any_ space. He starts to think!"  
  
"Thank you, doctor Freud."  
  
"Nate..."  
  
"Ray," Nate's voice makes it a warning. "He wants some space, I'm giving it to him. That's it."  
  
"I don't believe you."  
  
"I don't care," Nate snaps, and Brad winces. Nate is going to feel bad about it later. Or now. "Sorry. Just... Leave it alone, please?"  
  
"Fine," Ray capitulates. "But I don't like this."  
  
"I know."  
  
Brad is wondering what he should do now when Ray opens the door and collides with him. He looks angry and it's something new.  
  
"I don't know what you did, but you need to get your head out of your ass," he says and walks away.  
  
Brad waits a couple minutes more and if it wasn't about his phone, he would just turn around and leave, but he can't. Suddenly, the door opens again and he and Nate only avoid the collision because Brad expects it and moves away. Neither of them says anything. Nate doesn't even look at him.  
  
Brad wants to kick something. Instead, he counts to ten and goes to his locker to get his phone. There's a flyer stuck in the door and Brad wants to just throw it out, but he sees the Marine Corps insignia and stops.  
  
 _Officer Candidates School_. He sits down on the bench.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Brad talks with his parents on Saturday. He was afraid they would be either blaming Nate or being too happy about him not trying to get himself killed, but he's positively surprised. They are actually supportive and act like they're genuinely sorry. They ask him about other options and ideas he has, and when he mentions thinking of maybe getting a BA from CalTech and then going to the Officer Candidates School if DADT gets repealed, his parents look like they couldn't be more happy if they tried.  
  
His mom mentions Nate, but Brad ignores it. He sends in his letter of acceptance on Monday after school and he doesn't think of Nate's enthusiasm over college at all.  
  
He doesn't even know which college Nate decided on in the end. It hits him that night. Two and a half years of friendship, almost a year of relationship, and he doesn't know which college Nate picked. Stanford is where he wanted to go the most, but maybe he’s changed his mind? Maybe someone had said... something and Nate decided he didn't want to stay in California? Maybe he chose fucking Harvard, or Princeton, or Dartmouth.  
  
It's after ten p.m. and Brad knows there are other ways he could find out, but he doesn't care. There's only one way he should find out. He's out of the door in less than ten minutes.  
  
Nate's dad opens the door and Brad's, well.  
  
"Good evening, sir. I know it's late and I'm sorry..."  
  
"Just go upstairs, Brad." Nate's dad sighs and lets him in.  
  
He knocks and enters when he hears the invitation. Nate's sitting cross-legged with his laptop on Brad's side of the bed. Because Brad has one, the left side of this bed is his.  
  
"Hi," Nate says after a moment of silence, looking up at him. When Brad still doesn't say anything, he moves to the other side of the bed, making room, and goes back to his laptop.  
  
They will need to talk about a lot of things. About the Marine Corps, because Nate won’t leave it like that and Brad can admit he’s nowhere near over this. About everything they _can_ be now, because there’s nothing stopping them. But for now, there’s one thing he came hear to ask.  
  
"I don't know which college you've chosen," Brad says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.  
  
Nate's not surprised. He smiles instead.  
  
"Stanford," he says, tilting his head in the direction of the desk. "Signed my letter today. We had a Fick family discussion about it. There was a vote, Dad thought he could convince me to go to Harvard. Wish you..." he stops and his smile turns into a frown.  
  
"Sorry I missed it," Brad says, and he means it. He comes closer.  
  
"I was going to wait till the end of the week," Nate says and Brad stops. "With _the letter_ , Brad. Fuck, what do you think?"  
  
He shrugs.  
  
" _You_ don't talk to me for two weeks, so _I_ 'm done?"  
  
Brad sits down at the bottom of the bed.  
  
"I wouldn't blame you. I was a moron and an asshole."  
  
"You're being a moron now," Nate says, putting the laptop aside, and tugs at Brad's arm to get him to come closer until they are both sitting at the headboard.  
  
"I was angry at you," Brad admits. It's easier when they're both dressed, he doesn't feel that exposed. "I shouldn't have, because it's not your fault, but I couldn't help it. I was pissed off and disappointed, obviously, and I didn't want to talk to you."  
  
The sooner they talk this through, the sooner they will be past this. Hopefully.  
  
"I get it," Nate says, nudging him with his knee. "I just wish... that you would talk to me about it. I mean, I understand why you didn't, but I was still pissed off by the silent treatment."  
  
"One time you tried to talk to me, it didn't end well," Brad points out. He cringes at the memory. "I'm sorry about the things I said, by the way."  
  
He turns to look at Nate, who smiles at him a little self-deprecatingly. Brad feels like an asshole.  
  
"Becoming a Marine is my oldest dream," he says, "but it's not my only one."  
  
His life turned into a fucking soap opera when he wasn't looking, Jesus fucking Christ.  
  
Nate grins.  
  
"That was painful for you, wasn't it?"  
  
"A little," Brad admits, putting his hand on Nate's neck and bringing him in for a kiss. "But I know when I fuck up."  
  
"So," Nate says, with his lips touching Brad's. "Does that mean that you're talking to me again?"  
  
"In general, yes." Brad tugs and pulls until they're lying, facing each other. "But I'd prefer making out now, if you don't mind," he says, sneaking his hand under Nate's t-shirt to touch his back.  
  
"It's okay, I guess," Nate sighs theatrically, but he can't stop himself from laughing.  
  
"Your life is so hard," Brad agrees, biting him on the neck.  
  
  
*  
  
  
He wakes up in the morning with Nate lying half on top of him, and he doesn't think of anything at all.  
  
Nate stirs and nuzzles his chest a little.  
  
"I want to go to law school," he murmurs, half-asleep.  
  
Brad laughs and Nate rolls over to lie beside him.  
  
"I know," Brad says, smiling softly, running his fingers through Nate's hair. "You will want to help everyone and will almost ruin yourself working pro bono."  
  
"Or I could become a corporate lawyer," Nate says, without opening his eyes. He tucks his nose near Brad's armpit and sighs.  
  
"I'd pay to see that." Brad moves his hand to the back of Nate's neck and starts massaging it lightly.  
  
"It could happen," he slurs quietly.  
  
"You will get burned so bad," Brad says as quietly.  
  
Nate's hand closes on Brad's hip.  
  
"That's not a reason not to try."  
  
"I'm not saying it is. Everyone knows you're a masochist."  
  
"Says the guy who wants to have people shoot at him."  
  
"Says the guy who came out in a locker room full of half-naked teenagers," Brad shoots back, smiling at the memory.  
  
"Says the guy who... kissed that guy... one day," Nate struggles to finish the sentence before he falls asleep again.  
  
Brad tries not to laugh and wake him up.  
  
"Says the guy who kissed him back," he whispers and closes his eyes.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I've been nostalgic about this fandom lately and then decided to put my old stories here.
> 
> This one was written for yagkyas 2010 exchange as a gift for asimplechord over at livejournal.
> 
> Disclaimer: my stories in this fandom are based on the fictionalized characters from the HBO miniseries Generation Kill as portrayed by the cast. It's fiction, that's all. In no way I want to connect it to and I assume nothing about the people who are behind the story of the book that is behind the series. I mean no disrespect.


End file.
